Sleeping Beauty
by The Little House Scribe
Summary: The Quidditch team needs help to win the cup. Lucky they have two guardian angels. Operation Sleeping Beauty is a-go! Sequel of sorts to The Replacement.


"Now, gentlemen." The burly figure of Marcus Flint began as he addressed his team, pointed his wand at a bespectacled caricature scrawled upon a whiteboard beside him. "A problem named Harry Potter." Flint paused to allow his statement to sink in, but it didn't have much of a dramatic effect – the Slytherin Quidditch team was well aware of the threat Harry Potter posed to their championship chances.

"And now he's got himself a Firebolt." Flint said, walking around his seated team. "A Firebolt. An international standard broomstick." Flint allowed his message to sink in.

Draco Malfoy, seated between Crabbe and Goyle, shrugged as if it were of no consequence. "I can owl Father and the whole team will have Firebolts within the day."

Flint glared at Malfoy, conspicuously the only player who wasn't broad and hulking on the Slytherin team.

"I seem to recall the last time we thought along those lines, Potter beat you to the snitch which was right next to your face!"

"Your face." Goyle sniggered in a whisper to Crabbe, both revelling in the ecstasy of being privy to such refined humour.

"It wasn't my fault," Draco protested, a flush appearing in his pallid cheeks, but Flint waved him off. Draco settled down, but continued muttering under his breath.

"No, no, Potter can't take…" Flint frowned, as if lost in thought, and then turned back to his team. "I never found out which one of you modified that Bludger."

The team fidgeted. "We didn't, Marcus." One of the Beaters said.

Flint shook his head. He didn't see why the team would lie about this, but who else would want Potter hurt – maybe a member of Slytherin House. In any case, Flint only wished they'd modified the second bludger too. How tough would the '_boy who lived' _be with two balls of iron chasing him?

Returning to his original musings, Flint continued his sentence. "Potter can't take the field. He needs to be…eliminated."

"What! Permanently?" Draco demanded, voice shrill, not out of concern for Potter's health, but rather his own rather weak courage would not allow him to do anything that would bring mental distress upon him, and being prosecuted for Potter's murder was not something he could stomach.

"Don't be ridiculous. He just needs to be out of the way on Cup Final Day."

"Oh, right." Draco's voice lowered. "Yeah."

"Dumbledore wouldn't allow them back, but if they come anywhere near, I-I'll." Ginny demonstrated what she would intend to do to the Dementors, though as yet she was unable to cast the only spell effective against the foul creatures, by jabbing her fist at some passing air.

"You can't give a Dementor the old one-two." Harry said, smiling, though they both knew that only too well. He appreciated the sentiment all the same.

Hermione and Ron hurried up. Ron noticed his sister, and looked quizzically at her, as if wondering what she was doing there.

"Harry, how're you feeling? Nervous?" Hermione asked.

"Actually, I feel very relaxed, Hermione." And he looked it, smiling easily at everyone around him – his radiating confidence bolstering the team."

"Good to hear that, Harry." Wood said, slapping his back. "We best be getting along. See you around, Ginny, Hermione, Ron."

Harry left with Wood to prepare for the match, and Ginny, Hermione and Ron went in search of good seats.

"You know, I was about to ask you what you were doing there, Ginny." Ron began, trying to be serious but unable to keep a humoured inflection out of his voice. "But I figure I've already worked that out." Ron waggled his eyebrows at his sister, and then turned around, expecting Hermione's praise for being so perceptive.

"RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU TEASE YOUR SISTER!"

Ron was about to retort, when he saw Hermione's mouth had fallen open in stupefaction, and realised Ginny had said it. Ginny, for her part, looked quite pleased with herself.

"Weird sister." Ron muttered. "Well, come on, let's find some seats."

Ginny bounced along, and Hermione strode properly next to him.

"And here come Gryffindor! I'm sure we're all hoping the Lion's star Keeper, Oliver Wood, will leave Hogwarts with a Quidditch Championship to his name." A chorus of boos echoed out from the Slytherin fans, but was drowned out by a torrent of cheering from the other three-quarters of the stadium.

"Oliver Wood leads his team out one last time. The terrific twosome, Fred and George Weasley are followed by the three lovely ladies, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell, and finally, perhaps the most important player in the Gryffindor team, Harry Potter!" Lee's last words were drowned out by another massive cheer from the crowd.

"I'm sure you'd all agree that the Gryffindor team – especially the chasers, are far more aesthetically pleasing than any of the Slytherin side."

"I'd take any of them in a beauty contest!" Fred Weasley's voice carried up from below, sending ripples of laughter through the crowd.

"Still as delusional as ever, Fred. Everyone can plainly see that, in addition to talent, I was blessed with superior looks." George admonished.

"AND THEY'RE OFF!" Lee roared, but a sudden hush had fallen over the crowd. And it was apparent to see why. Wood was speaking the Madam Hooch. The game had stopped. Harry Potter was unconscious.

"What a blow for Gryffindor." Lee began, as McGonagall hurried down to the field where play was stopped. "As we all know, there are no substitutes in Quidditch except for fatigue. If Potter has been injured, Gryffindor will have to play without a Seeker."

Three quarters of the stadium collectively broke out in mutters.

"Unless, of course, it can be proven that there was a deliberate attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker, in which case grounds for a rematch may be found. Not that I'm accusing anysnake… anyone." Lee corrected himself. The Gryffindors burst into renewed cheering.

"Slytherin needs to win to retain the Cup. Gryffindor need to win by at least 210 points to gain the Cup. It goes without saying that Harry Potter is crucial to hopes of ending Slytherin's stranglehold upon the Qudditch Cup."

But Lee's words were lost on the crowd, as Harry Potter was being stretchered away below them. The rest of the team appeared to be remaining on the pitch, and Professor McGonagall was returning to her place next to him.

After a few minutes, Lee related to the crowd what he had been told by the Deputy Headmistress.

"Harry Potter is fine." Lee announced first, and the crowd sighed in collective appreciation. "Well, as fine as one can be when a sleeping potion has been administered upon oneself."

The crowd muttered around. "Whether or not this was a deliberate attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Team is under investigation, but the nature of Potter's indisposition mean that Gryffindor can activate a substitute, and, ladies and gentlemen…" Lee paused for dramatic effect. "Gryffindor are going to do so! Ladies and Gentlemen," Lee continued, demonstrating his perfect timing, as a new figure came shooting out of the Gryffindor change rooms. "I give you Gryffindor's substitute seeker, Ginny Weasley!"

"Have ever seen such an ugly sight?" Crabbe asked his friend Goyle, as they sat watching the game.

"I dunno, she doesn't look half bad for a blood traitor." Goyle replied, but Crabbe cracked him about the skull.

"I don't mean that! I mean that now Operation Sleeping Beauty is obsolete!"

"She's a girl." Goyle said dismissively. "What can she do?"

What Ginny could do soon was apparent to the crowd. Unable to keep pace with Malfoy on his Nimbus, Ginny was acting as fourth Chaser and third Beater, frequently opening gaps in the Slytherin formation by flying recklessly dangerously and baiting bludgers before eluding the iron balls, unleashing them at the Slytherins, who were shocked and confused at a Seeker taking such a huge part in the Beating and Chasing parts of the game. Ginny didn't touch the Quaffle or a Bludger, but she knew just when to pop up to ruin a Slytherin attack or break open a hole in the Slytherin. Malfoy, for his part, soared unchecked through the sky, but Ginny knew there was nothing she could do to keep up with him, so occasionally she re-joined him in circling the stadium, where they engaged in psychological wordplay, with which Malfoy was invariably the loser.

With every goal the cheering grew louder, and as Gryffindor were fifty points up, the Snitch appeared. One more goal. Ginny prayed as she saw Malfoy hadn't noticed it. One more. But Malfoy's body language was clear. He had noticed it. In split second Ginny sped towards the snitch, Malfoy reacting a second later, but his superior broom more than made up for his inferior skill, as he soon drew level with Ginny on the gentle climb towards the snitch. Pausing only to send his gloating regards, Malfoy sped ahead, satisfied in the knowledge of victory as Slytherin cheered ever louder.

Then two things happened at once. The snitch dived down towards Ginny, and a bludger directed by George Weasley smashed into Malfoy's tail-twigs, knocking his broom spiralling off course. The snitch flew past Ginny who made no attempt to seize it, noticing that Slytherin had scored to narrow the gap to forty points. She blocked Malfoy's view of the disappearing Snitch until it vanished from sight.

"Matchsaving Beating from George Weasley there! Absolutely splendid work!" Gryffindor is showing spirit is better than equipment, and they're flying rings around Slytherin at the moment." Indeed, bolstered by the events, Gryffindor had scored twice in quick succession.

"And Gryffindor lead by 60 points, we all know what – GINNY WEASLEY HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH!"

Harry, having been declared fit enough to move – the sleeping potion, once correctly identified, was easily countered – arrived just as Lee's dramatic statement echoed around the stadium. Harry watched, heart in his throat as Ginny dived vertically down, Malfoy hopelessly behind. Ginny continued at full speed as Harry noticed the Snitch was hovering near the ground. Ginny's hand closed around the golden wings of the Snitch just inches above the ground.

"GRYFFINDOR WIN THE CUP!" Lee roared, as the stadium exploded.

Harry, acting on instinct, cast his spell without consciously realising it, saving Ginny from the mangled fate that her broom just endured, as its pieces lay scattered across the ground, the result of a high-speed collision with the earth. As the team descended to congratulate their reckless new teammate, they realised that all was not well.

Harry kept the levitation spell active as he sped down to the pitch; as he arrived, he saw what was wrong. Ginny was unconscious, the Snitch feebly fluttering in her fist.

Harry released the spell and gently placed Ginny on the grass, reaching for the Snitch. "Potter, don't touch that!" Professor McGonagall commanded him, with a look that would have chilled his bones if he thought it was meant for him. Fred, George and Madam Hooch swooped down with the rest of the team. The stadium, above, thought that all was well, and three quarters were cheering themselves hoarse.

"McGonagall waved her wand and placed the Snitch in a container without touching it; before observing it for a few moments, and rising, fuming, as Madam Pomfrey took Ginny off the field.

"Ginny Weasley caught a snitch. A dummy snitch! A decoy covered in sleeping potion. Whoever committed this atrocious display of bad sportsmanship will be punished to the fullest extent! Miss Weasley very nearly died had it not been for the quick action of one of her fellow students." Professor McGonagall's echoing voice died down and was replaced by Madam Hooch's. "As the real Snitch is still uncaught, the match goes on. We will give the teams a few moments to ready themselves, and then we will restart with the score as it was when Ginny Weasley caught the fake snitch. Harry Potter will replace Ginny Weasley as the laws of Quidditch allow."

Harry, for his part, after Madam Hooch had assured him, Fred and George that there was absolutely nothing there was that they could do for her, and that the best thing for Ginny would probably be a nice, shiny cup on her bedside when she woke up.

"You heard Professor McGonagall." Harry began in a deadly low voice; cutting off Wood's beginning speech. "They nearly killed Ginny! We're not going to beat Slytherin." Harry growled. "We're going to humiliate them. We're going to make it so none of their team will show their faces for weeks!" Harry rumbled.

"You heard the man!" Wood commanded as pride swelled in his breast. "LET'S DO IT!"

The first face Ginny saw when her eyes fluttered open was Harry's – with Fred, George, Ron and Percy crowded around.

"Harry! You're fine!" Ginny said, having not seen him since he was admitted to the care of Madam Pomfrey. "But I feel as if our positions are oddly reversed." Ginny frowned as she noticed she was in bed, and Harry stood next to her.

"Hey, that's my line." Harry grinned down at Ginny.

Ginny bit her lower-lip in thought. "I last remember diving and touching the snitch – don't tell me I let it go!" Ginny gasped.

"No, our most senior witch had to prise it from your grasp." Harry assured her. "But, Gin; it was a fake."

Ginny sat bolt upright.

"A real snitch, granted, but not the match Snitch. It was coated in sleeping potion – a decoy."

Ginny sighed, and then made to rise from her bed. "Anyone know where Wood went, I want to apologise for…failing, you know."

"Enough of that, Sleeping Beauty." Fred gently pushed her back. "Tell her more, Prince Charming."

Harry merely inclined his head to the opposite side of Ginny's bed, where the gleaming Quidditch cup stood upon the cabinet. Ginny, upon seeing it, shrieked with delight, before wringing everyone's hands in congratulations.

"Professor McGonagall will engrave the team's names upon here soon enough. Can we put you two down for Sleeping Beauty I and Sleeping Beauty II? Or would you prefer Hinny Potsley and Garry Weastor?" Fred asked Ginny and Harry, whose thrown pillows connected with his face with satisfying fwumps.

"My name doesn't belong on there!" Ginny protested. "I didn't do anything."

"Pish-posh." Percy stated. "Of course it does." Percy said with finality. Everyone nodded.

Ginny spoke after a short silence. "What was the final score?"

"350 to 60" Ron answered, still disbelieving of what Ginny had done.

"I can't wait to see the look on Slytherin faces." Ginny anticipated with relish.

The mystery of the Sleeping Beauties may have gone unsolved had the masterminds behind the plot explicably failed to notice the danger of requesting the hasty return of their snitch. Crabbe and Goyle, scrubbing bedpans, wondered where they went wrong…


End file.
